In Wolf's Clothing
by Equinoxxy
Summary: She always empathized with mistreated animals. Now, she is one, just in the Narutoverse. What can a hybrid do to change the world? Not much, but she tries to change a little for the most inhuman characters. She can relate. There's not much human about her, either. Animal!SI/OC Realistic as I can write. Rated M for violence alone, no suggestive content. On muse Hiatus
1. Prologue

**Hello! Hope you enjoy! Rate, Review and comment!**

 _•Beware, Beware,_

 _Be Skeptical_

She awakens to the cold. She's numb, incredibly so, and she can't move her limbs.

 _Where am I? Why can't I move!?_

She feels something warm brush against her, repeatedly combing all over her body in tired, but careful strokes. She instinctually leans toward the contact, and a whimper bubbles up from the pit of her chest, but she cannot hear it. The air around her is shaking and the floor rumbling, and she feels bodies just about her size tumble and wiggle beside her. A wet, cold thing shoves her from behind towards something, and she complies, the frigid air slowly melting away as she is huddled next to something warm and furry.

Hunger assaults her and overrides her panic as the warmth shifts, the cold thing nudging her again and pushes her against it, but she has no clue what she is supposed to do. Suddenly, something grabs hold of her with cold, clammy and rough fingers. She forgets her monentary hunger and screeches and squirms, fear enveloping her as it flips her over and she is unable to hear her own screams. It shoves something in her face and she turns away, pushing and clawing at it with her hands and feet but it pries her mouth open and shoves the thing that is warm and squishy inside of it. She bites down and her mouth is filled with a yogurt-like substance. It tastes incredibly bitter, like barley tea, and she nearly gags at the silky texture.

 _I hate yogurt!!!_

Still, her hunger outweighs her dislike as she guzzles it down until the giant hand roughly shoves her back to the warmth. Her mind becomes hazy and despite her fear, and she falls asleep.

• _Of Their Smiles, Their Smiles of Plated Gold•_

I flinch as another harsh bark shatters the air, growls and snarls and teeth flashing in the cages around us. I curl a bit more into my (new) mother, but she makes no move to comfort me, too tired to even lift her head. One of my brothers wanders too far at the edge of our cage, and one of the dogs snaps at him through the bars, making the brown and white pup yelp and stumble backwards. I rush to his aid, growling pathetically in my unintimidating puppy voice. The Tosa Inu snarls back, frothing jaws and steroid-enhanced muscles bulging as he growls at me. The door outside creaks and slams shut, our caretaker coming in with a giant bowl of slosh wheeling in behind him. He grins as he sees me challenging the older dog, a wicked smile of missing teeth and plated gold.

"Well, now, spitefire, that's good! Can't have you dying too soon, though." He says as he stares at me before frowning and pulling a baton from his belt, flicking it and it unravels into a thinner, sparkling stick. He jabs it into the Tosa's cage, hitting him in his haunches and Tosa responds in return with howling and snapping at the electrical weapon. I shiver and stumble back, fear coursing through my veins at the shaking mastiff. Jigoku, our caretaker, snickers demonically at my reaction.

"That's good, that's good, you little devil. Wouldn't want to get rid of the boss's favorite batch if they turn on us, eh?" He snips at me, thrusting a ladle in the bucket and dumping the mix of what smells like water, dog food, lard, and meat into the Tosa's food bowl. Tosa lunges at it and garbles it down, massive canines snapping together with each bite. He does the same as he fits the ladle past the bars, my little brothers all rushing towards it and gobbling down the gross meal. I sigh (in a very doggish way) and wait for them to finish as Jigoku carries on past our crate.

It's been about three weeks since I died. Approximately twenty four days, if I really want to keep count.

It's also the amount of time it's been ever since I was born. I'm a mixed breed of fighting dogs, as far as I can tell by looking at my wolffish littermates. I live with my small family in a crate in the back of a fighting ring, surrounded by snarling and frothing fighters. I'm part wolf, from what I've discerned from my choppy knowledge of the men's Japanese as they speak to each other over the past few days, having just recently unlocked my hearing. My litter has high expectations in the eyes of the workers here in the dog pits, the first hybrid canine breeding experimentation for the wolf's ability to think on its own without relying on man for guidance. My mother is a Shikoku Inu, a rare dog breed the the master favors. However, her fur is greying and she has become old. In the limited knowledge I have, I know that we are going to be her final litter.

I decide that I have waited long enough and shove the other puppies aside in my reach for the bowl. It tastes revolting, but it is better than the yogurt formula I was force-fed when I was a newborn.

I jar with fear every time a dog yelps in the ring just past the door, and the hollering of the growing crowd out there skyrockets. I hastily gulp down the rest of the soup before the others can, picking up the large piece of chicken inside of it and dragging it over to mom, growling at any of the others who dare try take a bite. It takes all of my mini puppy power to bring it to her, but I somehow manage it. She sniffs and nibbles it, but makes no other efforts. I huff and flinch as the ring door slams open, Jigoku dragging in a beaten and bloody terrier, it's mouth duck taped and eyes glazed. I freeze and panic, seeing his lifeless eyes staring at me as he's dumped onto a growing pile of dog corpses and maggots.

 _He must have been a bait dog._

I shiver and look away, nausea filling my stomach as I focus a little too much on the smell of elimination and rotting flesh.

I tilt my head to the concrete cieling, and all I can do is pray that I'll soon be free.

 _•Deciet So Natural•_

I pant and puff, forcing my legs to run faster and faster, almost jumping onto the plastic platform in from of me. I'm afraid. I am now a year old, and they are beginning to train me to fight. I'm sprinting on a treadmill, my heavy chain collar and leash jingles and slams onto my winter fur as the biting cold returns once again, announcing the uncanny day of my winter birth. I've been going at this pace for almost an hour, and my saliva is slicking the plastic run as I heave. Finally, Jigoku slows the pace down to a steady jog. I heal quickly and grow fast, he says.

I believe him.

My muscles are growing at breakneck pace as the days pass, the calories from my new diet of steroid-jacked meat and lard helps keep my energy for training, and I am now almost as large as the Tosa Inu from long ago.

I wonder if he's died yet.

I was separated from my mother eleven months ago, and I have yet to see any of my brothers. Jigoku has already entered me in seven Hog-Dog fights, ones where I am pitted against half-grown boar just about my weight. I have only lost once, my first, because I had frozen in the middle of the fight.

A cracked rib is enough to keep me from ever making that mistake again.

In my old life, I had never broken a bone. Ruptured and inflamed organs, sure, since that was why I died but the shock of breaking a rib had nearly sent me into hysterics, so from then on in my lonely corner, I sang to myself. In my head, of course, because Jigoku and the others hate it when any of us bay or howl. I had discovered that after he had thrown a bucket at my head. It's not as pleasant or comical as it sounds when you're a puppy with a soft skull.

Throughly wiped and tired, Jigoku deems my efforts as adequate for today, and shuts down the machine altogether. My joints and bones creak a little as my mouth drips foam and mucus, body shivering at the over exertion as he takes my chain and tugs me away at his heels, my muscles screaming in protest as I wobble after him.

We go outside into the frosty air, walking without fear as dogs on the ends of chains staked to the ground yowl and pull, aiming to rip me to shreds as I stagger through. He connects me to my stake in the back and immediately leaves. The Shiba Inu beside me whimpers for his affection, but he leaves without giving her a second chance. She whines and turns to me as I lay down, jello-boned and fully spent. She walks over to me, but the chain keeps her a good seven feet away. She huffs and pulls again, but to no avail. I roll my eyes (what color are they? What color is she? All I can see is yellow and blue) at the Shiba's vain attempts.

She must be new here.

There is no interaction. There is no making friends.

You're on your own.

 _•But...•_

Two Years and then some. I've lost count. But that doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore.

There is only death.

Midorima leads me with the chain and thick, barred muzzle. He stands a good two feet away from me, never letting his guard down.

That was how I got Jigoku, after all.

I could still taste his blood on my teeth, feel his pulse between my canines and see the life drain from his disgusting piss-colored eyes.

I could taste the freedom.

I'm fully grown now, and I tower over every single opponent I face. Even the great Tosa Inu from long ago would cower four inches under me in withers height. My muscles bulge and roll under my fur and skin, long claws scraping the gravel beneath my pads.

I am powerful.

I am fighting outdoors this time, in the cold winter of my birth, and I see the growing ring on the permafrost. Midorima walks me up to the gate and shoves me in, ripping off the leash and muzzle before jumping back at my snap. Warm water is doused on me and a towel is quickly rubbed on my coat, removing any possible poisons. I've been poisoned so many times. Is this my fiftieth fight? Sixty sixth?

It doesn't matter.

My opponent is a vaguely familiar mix, wolfish eyes and a bite scar on his chest. I sniff the air and recognize him with a start.

He's my brother.

(But it doesn't matter.)

The gates swing open and we lunge, rearing up and tearing at each other's faces. However, I am the elder and more experienced.

I am not afraid.

I grab his ear and _pull_ backwards, tearing it from it's roots and teeth scraping against his skull, marring it bloody and split as he clamps down on the scruff side of my neck and _shakes._ We growl and snarl, but we never cry.

(We're both numb anyways.)

I shove him down to the ground, toppling him over even though he refuses to let go. I twirl and bear my fangs as I sink into his neck, copper and iron flooding my mouth as he growls and writhes, struggling against my grip. I push my weight into his neck, using a paw to pin down his chest and push the breath out of him. He squirms and howls in rage, but I don't let go even as a bar slips between my mouth and people tug on my collar, trying to make me release him.

(I'm too gone to notice the headbands, the flak jackets.)

My brother, my flesh and blood slowly crumples down beneath me as I let go far too late. I feel no sorrow. I feel no compassion. I feel no guilt as they try to drag me away from mutilating his body.

I feel only rage.

I jump and bolt, a newfound energy coursing through my body like second blood as I outrun all of the men, leaping over the six-foot iron fence. Adrenaline like never before courses through me, humming like it is alive as I tear the earth beneath me, ignorant of the shouts and distantly familiar throwing knives and stars. The world cracks underneath my feet as I run into the woods, farther and farther away from that places. There is no human in me. There is no right or wrong.

There is only death.

 _•A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing_

 _Is More Than A Warning•_


	2. Chapter 1

**Hello again! Thanks for reading so far, R R and have a good day! (Btw I know I suck but don't worry, shinobi will definitely be introduced into the next chapter.)**

 _•Baa, Baa, **Black** Sheep...•_

 _I'm gasping, grasping the covers of my bed as I struggle to reach my phone. The blades enter my abdomen again- stabbing and twisting, seven invisible knives plunging into my gut again. I choke past a sob as I force my face to remain calm. I am an ugly crier. The blades drag into the skin of my back, pushing through my bones and piercing my lungs and stomach._

 _Help, help, help helphelpM **E** -_

 _My mother rushes into the room, her face white as a ghost as she screams for my father. His thundering steps echo through the hallway, and his frozen face (he's just annoyed. I always cause them problems...) never changes as he scoops me up. My sisters stare in varying levels of shock and worry. Mom tells them to stay here and lock the door._

 _We're on our way._

 _The car jumps and jerks as we speed to get to the hospital, and I pant and plead to the Lord to end this pain, each movement the vehicle makes digging even more blades into my torso. My mother holds my head in her hands, soothingly rubbing my forehead as hot tears stream down my cold face._

 _It was far worse than the first time this happened._

 _I'm rushed to the ER on the stretcher as soon as we arrive, tossing my head over to the side as I feel them jab the IV into my veins, vomiting whatever was in my stomach. I shiver and refuse to look at anything resembling a needle as the morphine drip enters my body, though it does nothing to end the pain. I wonder why I'm here, wasting so much of my parents' small amount of money when my being here wouldn't change anything. I should have prepared for this._

 _They can't heal me. They have tried and they have failed._

 _I am unsalvageable._

 _I had so many things laid before me in the future. I wanted just one friend (just one that truly knew me) and to go to college, become a biologist, make my parents proud. I wanted to have a kid, even if by adoption. I wanted to understand what it was to love. I wanted to change the world, even if that world was only my own._

 _But I know now that it will never happen._

 _I cry on the unfamiliar bed sheets, smiling as best I can for my sobbing mother and my weeping father (he never cries. This is my fault) as they try to tell me that it's all going to be okay. That I'll be okay._

 _"I'm sorry."_

 _I tell her, looking at my parents (really looking at them) for the first time. I'm sorry for lying. I'm sorry for not saying 'I love you' enough. I'm sorry that I'll never be able to take that trip with you on my sixteenth birthday like you wanted, mom. I'm sorry that I never talked with you, dad. I forgive you both for everything. Just... please. Please don't cry._

 _The heart monitor cuts flat._

 _"I'm so sorry."_

I awake to white. My tears have frozen with the grit, pinching my eyes as I slowly blink awake. Two years. Two years since I dreamed of my death. Two years no longer. Five days. Five days since I escaped and began counting again.

I lift my head from under the blanket of snow, the white frost tumbling down. Hunger gnaws at my stomach and aches in the back of my mind. So far, I have survived on small mice and ermines, but they are not enough to fill me. My large build was a blessing in the ring, but here, it is a curse. The woods have thinned and the trees are all the same, black skeletons peeking through the white famine, and I am the only thing alive. A voice in the back of my mind sings a tune I have forgotten. One that means nothing to me. Still, it sings amidst the white, falling sky. I attempt to sing, but it only comes out in lonely, inhuman warbles.

 _"I walk a lonely road,_

 _The only one that I have ever known._

 _Don't know where it goes, but it's only me_

 _And I walk alone."_

I tip my nose to the sky as a blizzard whips my fur, howling with the wind in a plea for anyone. Anything. Anything in this desolate world. My soul aches for people I no longer know. Strangers with memories in this place where there is no time to remember. The voice slowly dies, giving way to me alone. I am no one. I merely am. I do not feel sadness, nor can I feel the pain of my wounds which have long frozen over.

 _"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me._

 _My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating._

 _Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me._

 _'Til then I walk alone..."_

There is only death.

 _•Have you any soul?•_

I cannot feel. My limbs move mechanically, (one, two, one, two, repeat...) and my bones scrape against the dry skin that no longer bulges from muscle. Hunger and need devours my mind and body, rage from leftover narcotics and remaining bumps of steroid-induced growth are all that keep me moving, the oil to the machine. Two years, one month and five days. Counting is the only thing that keeps the voice alive (it's pointless. I am all that matters, not what I once was). White surrounds me, the sky a muted grey and wind a vengeful ghost that pushes and tries to topple me, make me submit to the world, but I refuse. I refuse to die here. My instinct screams for me to run, find shelter from the harsh cold that had become my home, but the voice reminds me. It reminds me of a man long ago, surrounded by green, as he says "A lazy man is more likely to survive than a zealous one." with a grin on his face...

Green? What is green? Is it the same as white? Perhaps black, maybe grey?

White is all my vision sees. Yet, I remember the grey and black of the sky and skeleton trees. Does white mean something? Is it a color? Does snow have color? I've forgotten what color it is. Suddenly, there is a disturbance on the horizon on the plane of white. I see gnarled fences, dark, dark smoke rising from grey and onyx stones, a cabin of logs. Two figures move in the fences. What..?

"Brown!" The voice cries, _"That color is brown!"_

The new colors break apart the white silence, and I freeze. It is a cow and her calf, her soft, weak, delicious calf. A need and desperation I have never known fuels me and controls my body like a second mind, crouching me low as we dart towards the back of the house. It belongs to a very poor family, I realize. These two animals are all they own. The voice seems sad, but says nothing as I creep closer.

I am sorry that I must steal from the owners, who have only these cows to their name.

I charge at the much smaller calf, ramming into its side with the bridge of my nose, ignoring the sting of my newly healed muzzle wounds as it moos and topples over. The enraged mother roars and stamps towards me, spiked horns swaying as she tries to deter me, but I lunge past her and snap the neck of the calf, bones crunching and blood vessels spurting beneath my jaws, bringing death to the half-grown calf.

But I am not sorry for doing this.

I drag the corpse backwards, calling on all of my energy to lift it and dodge just in time for the cow to nick me in my haunches. I disappear into the blank expanse, the new life limp in my jaws. The truth is as set as the frozen earth I walk upon, and I come to my understanding.

There is only death.

Because life must be sustained.

 _•"No, sir, by the way..."•_

I'm still following the lone path through the woods. Two years, one month, a week and six days. I often find shelter in abandoned shacks nowadays, and the voice tells me that civilization must be close. The voice is excited, and I can feel us slowly merge as the days progress, the hope for humanity driving us closer.

Walking in the white snow and seeing the black, thorn-like trees now brings me a sense of satisfaction ever since the voice and I began to merge. I enjoy seeing the skies of my birth season and am able to look past the pangs of hunger. Though I have very little sense of color, the world of scent is brought before me like a revelation. I can smell the fire and grease of human works up ahead, distant, but like a candle in the darkness. I can smell the mice and the ermine underneath my paws, no longer having to rely on hearing alone. I am following a trail, a lone one, recently branched off from others similar to it. It smells of grass and hide, stale bread and urine. An old buck, probably chased or separated from its herd due to old age in this harsh winter that is my home. The scent grows stronger as I jog on, lean and still bony but with muscles that have been brought on by the harvest of my newfound skill. I can soon hear it, the sound of cracked hooves crunching through the icy top layer of the snow, tired huffs and grunts. I can hear my blood pumping in my veins as I spur myself forwards, trekking off to the right as I see it in the distance. I creep closer and closer, lithe form and newfound strength in my bones and muscles as I stalk past the trees, rounding to the northeast of the deer. Deer here are rather small, but a buck of this size easily towers me by a good two feet, standing at five feet at shoulder height, even taller if you count the head. I don't stay in my spot long before I attack.

I rush into the small clearing, claws tearing into the powdery snow as the buck brays and turns. However, the same energy that possessed me at the moment of my escape aids me once more. The new blood runs in me like opium, addicting and empowering as I outrun the buck, roaring out a thundering bark that belonged to my mother's side of the family as I sink my dewclaws and press my feet on his back, pinning him down as I bite his jugular, ripping out the vein with bloodthirsty ease. The life drains from his eyes and pools down in red that stains the spotless blanket of snow. I pant twice and step my back paws off before rearing and falling back down onto the area behind his shoulder, pressing out as much blood as I could. To never eat blood is something of a rule I have obtained ever since the voice became part of my concious.

I rip the carcass open, stripping the sternum apart as I gobble what I now know as the most nutritious parts; the heart and the liver. Red paints my fur the color of stolen life, but I do not care. There is only death because life must be sustained. The meat is loose and chewy, but beggars cannot be choosers when faced with opportunity, so I waste nothing and eat as much as I can.

My nose is clogged with the scent of food, so when a low growl permeates my haven, my hackles are set on edge and a snarl finds its way to my jaw as I slowly lift my head, eyes blazing menacingly at the one who dares challenge me. A large, boxed face grumbles and stands ten feet in the air, the deafening roar of the bear shaking the snowflakes in the air. I stumble backwards from it, in both fear and awe, as it's descent leaves the earth cracking and groaning in it's wake. My legs lock in place, and everything in me tells me to _run, run **now-**_

The voice does not back down. I am born anew, a human rage I had once felt so long ago in that hell's arena, and I see for the first time. The world is no longer so narrow, and the sinful pride within me wells up. I **am** the voice now.

 _I am not **weak.** I am not a mindless **animal.**_

 _Beast fears **man.** Not the other way around._

I return the battle cry, rage and fear forcing that strange energy to boil my blood once more. I step over the carcass, raising my face up to its level, staring into the black pits of it's eyes. It snarls and clambers forward with surprising ease at high speeds, but I am faster. Smaller. More lithe. I let out a bizarrely human-like warble, dodging to the side as its paw bats the air where I previously stood as I round behind it, lunging forward and latching onto the side of it's throat, eliciting an enraged roar from the beast. My teeth sink harder and harder into it's thick hide, but it's not enough to break the skin as it lands a solid blow on my stomach. I'm rocketed backwards from shock and hit the tree no farther than two feet away from the bear, feeling small blossoms of pain cracking along my spine despite the numbness, awed by the bear's strength and my durability. I had never been hit this hard by boars nor man nor canine before, and the fact that I am standing back up naturally on almost autopilot leaves me speechless even though my face betrays nothing.

Humans are fragile. A blow to the vital organs or a snap of a major vein and in just a few moments- snap. The human leaves. The person isn't _there anymore._ Just a corpse.

Am I even human anymore?

The bear charges at me, all intents while lowering it's jaw and teeth bearing wide to finish me off. I duck low and it's teeth graze my shoulder, burning hot blood runs across my shoulder and erupts when it's claws strike the other half of me on the ribs, leaving five long cleaves in it's path. I immediately snap upwards. My jaws clench around it's throat as the bear roars and shakes, trying to fling me off, standing and slamming back down onto the earth. I'm becoming dizzy, but the energy and the numbness dull the effect as best they can as I struggle to keep holding on as my own life drains from me. Am I still weak? Am I still human?

 _What makes me human?_

I have had enough of being tossed like a rag doll and forsake my train of thought as I copy what it does and I _shake._ The bear roars again, this time in agony as the energy travels through my veins and into my teeth, the bittersweet taste of iron flooding my mouth as I steal it's life. I am blinded by the red liquid, and I shut my eyes tight before it can invade me. The bear groans and staggers suddenly, breath slowly being dragged out of it's mouth as it sways, but I still refuse to let go.

What defines my morals?

I would not know. But now, _we_ do.

The bear collapses with one final great heave, succumbing to cold death as it crushes the snow beneath it's body with a great _crunch!_ I'm buried beneath it, death lingering in my veins as it slowly stains the snow. Yet, I feel... Alive.

The voice, the human side of me and now part of me once again, tells me everything. She tells me the story of the Lord and why we believed in it. When I wonder if I am a sinner for my murders, I am reminded of the great king, David.

It's vague and hardly there, but 'I' now know what it is. It's like a drug, addicting and enticing, breathing old life into my lungs as it whispers to me.

I _mean something._

Death exists because life must be sustained. The weak make up the strong. Strength is life...

So what is purpose?

•"... _What the Hell are Morals?" •_


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Only when I started writing the chapter did I discover your reviews. Thank you so much for the support and I look forward to writing this book with your words to carry me on! Follow me on instagram at chimera_kuun! And from now on, I'll accept one question per chapter that you all would like to ask the MC if you ever met her! Thanks again! Enjoy! R R!**

 **Btw...**

 **LOOKING. FOR. BETAAAAAA!!!!**

• _Jack, be nimble...•_

The town is within my sight. Winter is ending, and with it, the beast that ruled over my mind. The scent of mankind is highly unpleasant even more so up close. Trash and fire and grease fill my nose, combined with the sound of children laughing and playing, adults conversing idly on the sides of streets. It's a fairly rural and suburban environment, seeing as the bustling town is surrounded by sheep pens. The sheep baa and look at me as I walk past them on the gravel road, unknowing that I could very well be the end to their short lives if I want to be. However, that isn't my aim right now. Winter still isn't over, and my wounds are slowly reopening as the ice melts in the coming spring, so I need to feed off of man unless I get infected and die.

Again.

However, I have no intentions to become a pet. I refuse to bow down to the will of a master and live my days in bland servitude of someone thinking me nothing more than a dumb animal. That's why I don't dare enter the town. Little kids are grabby by my understanding, and people don't take well to huge stray dogs that said small children are midnight snacks to. Especially, from my knowledge of my sire, one that looks like a wolf. Yeah, I like my fur without bullet holes or spears or whatever this primitive-looking town has.

I'm on the very far outskirts of the village, stalking the area near the woods outside of the sheep pens. I growl in impatience, having waited a good long hour for sight of a shepherd. My goal is to lead a lamb astray or two when the shepherd's not looking, snatch it, then make it look like it was an accident by covering the corpse (skeleton, when I'll be done with it) on the bottom of a canyon or in a thorn patch. Heck, maybe I'll blame the neighbors if I want to... nah, I'm not smart enough to do that without opposable thumbs.

Thirty minutes later, a man enters my view. He has a cane in hand and is wearing simple brown pants and a white tunic. Despite his simple clothes, I believe I have rights to what I'm about to say.

 _Whoa._

He's _hot._ Tanned skin, wild, messy brown hair and greenish hazel eyes along with a tall, well-worked build. If I'd been human, I'd have a huge nosebleed, but my doggy form takes to literally drooling instead. What can I say?

My weak heart can't handle hot people, in this life and the last.

I'm snapped out of my trance as he whistles sharply, opening the gate to a small group of about fifteen sheep. They instantly rumble out the gate, shepherd in tow as he uses his cane to shove them in the right direction. I follow behind our of view for a while, using the soggy, melting snow to mute my footfalls as he leads his charges to greener pastures. He doesn't notice me, and the sheep are too tame to register me as a threat as I hide among green shoots of bushes and shrubs.

Eventually, we come to a clearing adjacent to a calmly flowing stream, a thing I thank the Lord for since muddy snow water is absolutely disgusting. I let the sheep settle into the small valley surrounded by trees, slinking a little further into the thorny undergrowth near the creek to lap up some water. The shepherd sits atop a sunny hill where winter is devoid from the dry, summer sun patch on the top. I lay on a rock on the riverbank, concealed by thorns and leaf buds.

The morning drones on in monotony, the groaning of my stomach reminding me each second of how delicious the moving marshmallows look right now. I wait for a sheep to stray from the herd just a little, worries of the shepherd subdued thanks to his little nap-taking. I'm happy he hasn't spotted me yet, it gives me a bit of reassurance on my stealth skills and my appearance. If he hasn't noticed me yet, it means that I'm not some ridiculous color like _bright orange_ or _hot pink_. How could anyone hide in those colors?

I take the time to truly admire the world around me. Brittle trees sway in the wind, bluish green leaves budding on their branches. Ivy and weeds are already stringing the forest floor, mosses and grass littering the steppes surrounding the river. Minnows and crayfish lurk on the creek's bottom, water skiers and occasional dragonflies hovering above the water. The sky is bright but slightly cloudy, a gentle spring wind helping push the lazy clouds along. I enjoy the beauty of spring, drifting off to a time when I was very small, alone and in the wonders of the natural world. I feel a shift in my mind (very much like when I finally overtook the beast) and suddenly, the world is before me. My eyes close involuntarily, a deep breath of the free air entering my lungs and breathing life into my body. I can see it all, I can _feel_ everything.

I can feel the dirt underneath my paws, the strands of life within the hollow wind, the birth and renewal of life beneath me, deep underground, but so close to the surface. I feel the life surging through the dead trees, the energy in the roots that extend deep into the strong, nurturing earth. I can hear the chirps of a songbird in the distance, the scuttling of a weasel as it wakes from it's slumber. I can smell the trail of slime on a red (I can _see_ red!) mushroom left behind by a slug, the murmuring and bubbling of tadpoles in their eggs, the tender step of a fawn standing for the first time. I can feel the shepherd's heartbeats, soft and steady underneath the earth, beating to the gentle rythm that moves it all.

I feel that song deep within me, lost and dead, brimming with life as I am reconnected with it. I feel my bones shift, my body grow as I absorb the energy, heart pumping to a new beat and the world follows along. The forgotten tune moves my blood like it was created to do exactly that, mind and body connecting with everything, becoming _one_ with the world. Everything is before me, I can see _everything,_ softer than the touch of a baby just conceived, everything is within my grasp, not even the the quietest whisper or longest-forgotten scent is unknown to me.

Slowly, slowly, my mind shifts away again and I am brought down from the high, speechless as my body returns to the inanimate state, hot, inhuman tears on the ridges of my eyes.

I was, in those few seconds, _alive._

I don't register anything for a while, silent, just staring at the inhuman reflection in the river. I _saw them._ My family. They were happy. My little sister was smiling again, so bright and warm and _alive._ My mother and father watched her, smiling as she twirled in the sunlight, beautiful and free. I could see Lili and Andrea, sitting next to each other as they comb each other's hair, Bambi and Lolly dogging Olivia's steps as she danced.

They were happy.

Even if it was without me.

That's all I could ever ask for.

I shake off my thoughts, pawing away the tears. I don't cry. I've always been an ugly crier.

I wait again, oddly light in my body as I'm acutely aware of everything. A new kind of voice whispers to me without words, like an urging that led me to see the sheep, to call one out. Entice them to come with it's song, to wait no more and play nature's tune as my own. I listen to it, closing my eyes and feeling out with that strange energy, that second blood that reaches out farther than my own, deep into the earth as it searches for what I desire. I feel a connection immediately, all within the span of three seconds, and I call to it. The shepherd stirs in his sleep, and I slow down my call, eyes snapping open and watching him carefully. He rolls over to his side and dozes off once more, oblivious to my song. A ram strays from the herd, swerving as if drunk, pulled along like a puppet on a string. Rams are Tougher and harder to catch, but bigger and juicier if I bring it down. Beggars can't be choosers when faced with opportunity, and in this case, I'll take it without hesitation. Boars are tougher than almost any sheep out there, and are the berserkers of the battlefield among animals.

I've devoured seven by my own hands- er, paws, when I was but a yearling.

Piece of cake, right?

I lick my chops and jump up immediately, the spell snapping as I veer off to the right and circling around the ram, eyeing the shepherd. The tame sheep don't bleat in alert when I get between the ram and the herd (weird, don't they have natural enemies around here? I'm at least part wolf, at the very least they should be screaming bloody murder) to effectively cut off escape to the herd. Safety in numbers is a pain to deal with, I prefer my one-on-one, thank you. Everything is going perfectly.

If only the stupid sheep would move.

The ram just stares at me and munches grass, completely oblivious. I can't kill it here- doing so would cause the sheep to panic and forever register me as an enemy, which would make my work _much_ harder, plus barking to scare it to moving would wake the shepherd. I'm at a loss of what to do. I'm huge, a tank, but here I am, having trouble herding a stupid, much less intelligent ball of walking fluff. Stupid 'brains over brawn' rule of the universe.

What do I know is good at scaring sheep? Collies. Border Collies. Of course! I wanted to be a canine biologist in the Back Then (too late for that now, hm?) and what self-acclaimed dog expert would I have been if I didn't know the workings of a Collie? Collies use their eyes and occasionally mouths to herd sheep. I just need to do the same.

I copy what I can remember of Collie herding behavior, hunkering close to the ground and glaring the sheep in the eye, letting a low growl in my throat. The sheep staggers back a little, thankfully, because my body was not built for this much close proximity to the ground when standing, so I ease a bit taller and stalk towards it like I'd seen wolves do when hunting elk, a bit more confident with my past hunt of the deer. The strange energy courses almost lazily through my body, and I can feel it throb in my eyes.

It works, and the ram bleats and shuffles away from me, into the forest. Bingo! I quickly repeat, nipping it at the heels (super hard when you're almost two times as tall) and effectively leading it a good bit into the woods. As soon as we're a bit farther from the rock at the riverbank, I lunge. It goes out with a dying bleat as I bite it's windpipe, head swinging backwards as it tries to hit me. I don't give it the chance, letting go to snap down on the back of it's neck, a sickening _crack_ shooting into the air as I end it. Much easier than a boar or buck.

The meat is thick and lean, like soft velvet on my tongue as I eat. The wool is hard to get by (and disgusting) but the skin peels easily. As I eat it, I feel the energy that was once in the sheep slowly tranfer into me through air on some other plane of existence I can't comprehend. What _is_ this energy? It's not like anything-

I practically jump as I hear an enraged shout in the distance, spotting the shepherd wandering the clearing for the lost ram. I stand stock-still, frozen as I wait for his eyes to pass over me- our eyes catch.

Shoot.

I don't waste time and dart back, tail turned to the charging man as I run for my life, twisting and turning into thickets and rocky terrain to lose him. Next time, I'll be sure to enjoy my meal further from danger.

 _•Jack, be quick...•_

The sheep sleep in peace, blissfully unaware of my presence. Two years, three months and six days. I've thinned the herds well, having spent more time hunting at night than in the brod daylight. In the wild, it didn't matter if the sub was high in the sky or if the moon was dipped low, all that mattered was if someone got the jump on you or not. Such is different with people. We humans (if I can count as one) are fragile in terms of combat and natural survivability, but our minds are unparalleled compared to the other creatures on the planet. As well as our, if cultivated correctly, freaky stamina.

Off topic.

Crickets chirp and the last of the cicadas die out as the sun sets on the horizon, bloody crimson and blinding light melting the fields of grass and rock in a volcanic wave of heat, temperature twisting the view. I feel the energy within it all, but the awareness fades off with another shot of irritation. It's bloody hell for me with all of this fur in the summer heat, and it doesn't help that I shed an insane amount, which leads trails for the villagers to track and try to flush me out. Spring is utter hell. I don't even want to think about the _heat._

It's not the temperature kind.

Funny how authors in books and fan fiction from Back Then constantly ignore this part when saying their character 'tranfsorms' into an animal. Humans don't have a 'heat' period and are the only living things capable of reproduction without splitting in half or pooping out an egg as far as I know, so this is an entirely new area of living to me. It's different from having a period. I'm insanely itchy in certain areas, temperamental, and generally just angsty. But don't think I don't bleed awkwardly at least once a month.

Moving on.

Night overtakes the skies as the moon rises, a waxing crescent as it illuminates the earth underneath it. The sheep glow dully in the afterglow, mostly frozen in sleep with the occasional late-night grazer. My feet move silently in the night, wind rustling my fur like the dark, green grass. I look up to check the houses on the hill for any light, but not even a candle flickers in the distance. Everyone must be asleep. I inhale the cool, fresh air and the scent of sheep and rotting wood. I catch a whiff of water, warmth and oil. Dog? I doubt that it will get in my way. Most avoid me like the plague, though more aggressive ones still pick fights with me. Metal is heavy in the air, something new and different. The blacksmith in the area is in the middle of the town and a bit farther from the shepherds' huts. It makes sense if he is doing work into the night, but I don't smell the telltale fire of his mortar. Something is strange tonight.

A growl rumbles lowly in my throat. Change is never a good thing when all is already well. Change is something to be wary of, especially if you don't know what exactly has changed. I atop in my tracks. The scent of iron is very suspicious. In the Back Then, I learned about trapping wild animals. I knew how to set up snares and how to detect them. I doubt the shepherds will let me continue slaughtering their sheep, so I don't have any reservations in saying that they have probably set up traps. I need to look out for suspiciously grassy areas and avoid the fencing and keep an eye out for string of any type. I somewhat doubt that they have a rope I can't chew through, but it's better to be safe than to be sorry. As for the dog scent, the ones they own here are trained to hunt rats, not herd thrives. Guns aren't an issue, as I have deemed them inexistent in this place, or at least in this backwater town.

 _•Jill's a little cruel...•_

I swiftly leap over the fence, slowly walking into the open field. My fur stands on end and for some reason I feel very, very vulnerable. The wind blows again, shuddering against my raised hackles and making me halt. A tree branch snaps, and I whirl around.

Not fast enough.

A knife slices the air in front of my face, imbedding itself into the ground. I growl and jump back, unprepared as a bark resounds behind me. I whip around again, shocked and alert (afraid) as a snarling, white dog tackles me. I yelp in fear as he pins me down on my neck, fangs sinking into my skin.

 _Oh God, he's got my windpipe-!_

I snap and writhe underneath it, adrenaline coursing through my veins as shouts and whoops surround me. I use every last ounce of strength in me to push myself up, ignoring the teeth sinking further into my skin as I howl in rage, ripping myself away. I land on my back feet and launch, jaws snapping on thin air as it leaps back, growling at me. My mind flickers to my neck, the pain of four gaping holes in my flesh like bullet wounds. NY distraction is enough for this dog to attack, a bark and jump and we're entangled once again. I'm in the lead this time, maw locked onto the back of his neck and body draped on his shoulders. He's still standing, but barks in pain when I shake my head, leaping away and pulling off a chunk of meat.

"Oi! Akamaru!" Someone shouts and rushes towards the panting and whimpering dog. Pathetic.

Wait...

 _Akamaru?_

I spit out the furry mess as two more figures rush towards the dog, this time standing between me and him. One of them crouches low (into an attack stance?) with their hands flat and perpendicular in front of them. Akamaru is an odd name for a dog, especially in a place where the people speak English. Maybe they actually have television here and the boy is a Kiba fan? Improbable, but not impossible.

"I told you to keep Akamaru back. Why? Because she is in heat, and therefore more dangerous." The tallest figure explains as his hand shifts in the moonlight as he resituates his shimmering glasses. His manner of speech is much too... Shino-like for my tastes. Are they into reenactment?

The clouds shadowing the moon drift away, the pale light casting it's full glory on the group before me. My jaw slackens and I feel my eyes grow wide, mind blank as I stare in disbelief.

 _They... How..? What..?_

The carbon copies of Team Eight stare back at me. Their clothes are real, exactly the same in the anime, their headbands too real and perfectly tailored to be fake. I slowly look to the knife from before, and I wish I never did.

It's a kunai, real and sharp and as plain as day. I see flashes of that hellish arena, men and women in flak jackets and gleaming forehead protectors. I see their kunai holsters and tantō sheaths strapped across their backs.

 _I'm an idiot._

The signs were in front of me the entire time. Subtle things like the strange energy are understandable things to miss, but to have had a forehead protector flash _in front of my face?_

I can't process this correctly. First off, the pure _irony._ I, someone who knows the series, happens to transmigrate into an animal in the same world I know the fate of? I happen to meet three of the Rookie Nine? There's no way that this isn't some madman's plot.

I'm _furious._

I snarl in rage, making the unit tense. I feel the energy- _chakra-_ course through my veins and my bones snap and twist, and my anger grows despite the shocked gasps of Hinata as I grow larger and larger, quickly towering over their prepubescent forms. My muscles enlarge and claws sink into the soft ground as they grow, the skin atop the back of my head bursting, and I can feel Shino's bugs hum in fearful excitement. My transformation stops, but I'm too angry to register what has happened. The sheep have long since fled this part of the field, their bleating a distant call as shepherds move them away in the distance.

I growl, a dark, fearsome rumble like a mountain lion's roar. Akamaru whimpers but tried to stand, tries to protect Kiba.

 _Pathetic._

Shino's bugs swarm around me, their wings a beating hum as they circle me. Hinata's byakugan is activated, her hands shaking but eyes blazing like Kiba's. But I'm not looking for a fight.

I'm saving that for whoever did _this_ to me.

I open my mouth, making them shift in preparation, but that's not my intention. " **'I** _ss... **o** ff." _I snarl in broken Japanese, stepping closer as the ground shudders underneath my stomp. Hinata and Shino flinch, the Hyuuga heiress staring at me in open shock and I can almost hear the gears turning in Shino's head. Kiba snarls, staring back at me with hatred.

"Like hell we're running away from _you! Shino, Hinata, let's get 'im back for Akamaru!"_ He roars, his hood flying off of his head as he charges for me. Hinata and Shino tag behind him, breaking off to opposite sides as they surround me. My throat rumbles lowly as I swing my head to each of them, keeping an eye on their movements.

"You need to calm down. Why? You get reckless when angry." Shino sniffs at him, standing back as much a distance as possible when my gaze settles on him. They aren't going to let me go. They're probably being paid for this, and pissing off Kiba sealed the deal. I'll go for Shino first. He's the most dangerous considering his kikaichu insects can drain my chairs, which is most likely what's giving me this power-up. I'll have to be wary of Kiba as well, and I don't doubt that Hinata will come to either of their defenses. But...

Where's Kurenai?

They don't give me any more time to think, Kiba rushing forward with a kunai drawn. He's faster than any animal I've encountered so far, but it's not enough to catch me off guard. It step towards him, shifting my nose upwards to dodge his swipe and snap down onto his hood.

 _"Kiba!"_ A woman's voice shouts out as I lift him up, preparing to toss him into the air as I'm immediately hit in the ribs and on my leg. The force of the blow on my chest knocks the wind out of me, and I drop Kiba with a _thud_ as I stagger to the side, hearing Hinata's squeak as I nearly trample her. My leg twitches and falls limp underneath me, swerving off balance on three legs before forcing myself to stand still. I recognize Kurenai as the unknown assailant, seeing her crouch down to Kiba and check him for injuries.

Talk bull about her all you want, Kurenai has a _nasty_ kick. My ribs are definitely broken again, and I don't have enough medical expertise to know if I'm in danger of a punctured lung. I growl in pain, blood beating loudly in my ears as I slowly shrink at an almost unnoticeable pace.

 _What's... happening?_

I shake my head in frustrated fervor. I need to get out. I'm unprepared to deal with _ninja,_ much less a jounin and three clan kids, even if they're genin. I'm unsuited to taking on multiple enemies, and I don't have control of my enhanced form. I turn tail and face Hinata immediately, Shino standing defensively behind her. I head for a frontal assault and charge towards her, immediately jumping backwards and to the side as she thrusts her palm to me, stepping forward with my movements and throwing her left palm at me this time. I step backwards, evading her aim on my leg. We dance back and forth, me on the defensive as Hinata assaults me. I'm barely able to land a blow with her byakugan and reflexes, not to mention my useless hind leg. She's good, but not good enough to hit me. Her movements are predictable with my knowledge, easy to evade but impossible for me to get past. I'm getting smaller rapidly, but that only increases my nimbleness. Perhaps it's the Kikaichu insects?

Immediately, Kiba and Kurenai are back in the fight. I duck a high kick to my head from Kurenai, shrinking backwards to avoid a swipe of her kunai. Hinata charges in then, aiming for a tenketsu point on my leg as I push my upper body forward, nearly knowxking Kurenai on her back before she leaps backwards. I redirect my attack and swing my head to the left to catch the off-balance Hinata, teeth snapping onto the back of her hood. "Hinata!!" Kiba yells, giving me an idea as to his position and I fling Hinata at him. Kinda catches her with a grunt, but it's enough of leeway to let me escape.

I dart off at top speed, flying over the crude fences. I head towards the creek, knowing that Shino undoubtedly planted a female kikaichu beetle on me, a smart but old move. The thing about creeks is that they almost always lead to a larger lake or pond, and who says beetles can hold their breath?

I look behind myself to see if they're following, looking up into the trees only to spot Kurenai, Shine and Hinata. Kiba must be staying behind to heal Akamaru. I keep running, but I stumble as I notice the ground swirling beneath my feet, the world blurring together as everything mashes and-

 **"Kai."**

I shoot up, my shoulders and head smacking against metal bars, making them creak from the stress I've put them under. Team Eight is gathered all around me including the Shepherd and some villagers I don't know. I'm inside a cage, with them looking at me inside. A round, portly man with wide eyes leans before my cage in wonder, his mouth agape. "Ooh! So that's how you did it! Genjustu! You must be quiet proficient in the arts. When did you do it? I didn't see you do it in the fight." He asks, and I growl in rage, sick of him looking at me like a downed beast. I twist and snap my head at him with a roar, making him stumble backwards as my haws clench onto the bars, making the weak iron bend inwards at my wish.

"P-please be careful, Horiko-san!" Hinata cries softly, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady the shocked man. He stares at me in horror, barely concealed as he tries to soothe his ruffled appearance. _Good._

"When Akamaru first engaged her, I cast the genjutsu. He wasn't able to get away in time, and because of that, he was hurt. I've already given Kiba a reprimanding to stop charging in earlier, so you have no need to worry about it happening in the future. _Right, **Kiba-kun?"**_ Kurenai explains, putting a strict hand on top of Kiba's head while smiling scarily. He gulps and I see a shiver run up his spine and transfer to the half-grown Akamaru. "Y-yes, ma'am!" He stammers, Akamaru adding his own bark of clarification. Horiko laughs lightly, eyeing me from the corner of his eye as I lick my chops only to make him shuffle away from the cage. "A-ah ha ha, yes. Still, it was rather impressive in how you stopped... _it-"_ He's just got himself top spot on my hit list. "- even after _it's_ transformation. If you don't mind me asking, what _is_ it? I've never seen anything quite like it." He announces, jumping when I growl at him. Kurenai looks thoughtful, but shakes her head. "I'm afraid animals aren't my specialty. Kiba? Shino?" She calls out to the two, gesturing towards me.

Shino regards me cooly and respectfully, but Kiba stares at me like I'm the scum of the earth as he protectively grasps Akamaru's fur. He sniffs at me with an expression one wears when their pet shats on their carpet, snorting my scent out of his nose once he's done. " _it's_ probably a ninken-" He smirks when he sees my ire at his insulting referral. "-from the way it seems to understand human speech, and how it mumbled coherently when under genjutsu, as well as activation of chakra. However, it doesn't smell like a normal dog, so it's possible that it's a summon." Kiba hypothesizes, but Shino shakes his head. "Not likely. Why? Many reasons. Summons don't have a seasonal heat, but she does. Akamaru isn't bothered by it due to ninken training, but she obviously is. My Kikaichu also tell me that her chakra pathways are unlike both summon and ninken. Another thing is that summons live in a different plane of existence than us. If I had a guess, I'd say she's an exiled summon or the very first hybrid." Shino analyses, making everyone blink in complete wonder. I am already dealing with the shock of being of _freaking Naruto,_ being put under genjutsu in a struggle I had no hopes of winning, and now he drops this on me?

I can't think properly like this.

"That's... interesting. Lady Tsunade will definitely want to study this." Kurenai blinks out, staring at me with eyes of newfound curiosity. Screw you, Shino. I used to like you. I hope your Kikaichu piss inside you.

Kurenai steps towards the cage, smiling kindly as she lowers herself down to my level and her knees. Is this sense of degradation what small people feel like? "What do you say, buddy? Will you come to Konoha with us?" She coos. "I.. say.. screuu... yu." I snarl with my peculiarly moving jaw, forming words more efficiently now. I'm a quick learner. Horiko looks mortified yet intrigued that I can speak, but Kurenai's face twists sourly.

Shino steps forward and uses his middle finger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't be so adamant yet, hybrid-san. It's Konoha or Horiko-dono's pet store."

What..?

 _•And Her Alibis are Dirty Tricks•_

 **I'm not quite happy how this chapter ended, by oh well! Tell me how you think I could revise it if needed! By the way, if you want, search up 'elephant growl recordings' on if you want to hear MC's growl in her chakra induced form! Ciao! (Check out my other books too!)**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hoi! Hope you enjoy and please take a read on my other books too! OH! And the little thing inside the •s are lines from a song called A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing by Set it Off. I've cleaned it out, though. Be sure to check out my Jiraiya short story, Hero of War.**

 **Also, just got a laptop so you can expect quicker updates.- scratch that school started and my butt is getting kicked.**

 **UGH SO MUCH WRITER'S BLOCK ON THIS CHAPTER. I WANNA MAKE IT DETAILED AND INTERESTING AND RELEVANT BUT GRRR.**

 **Last note is this; REVIEWS ARE THE BEST MOTIVATION. I BREATHE LIFE INTO MY BOOKS WITH FEEDBACK. Special thanks to Skymoon18 for her checking out reviewing on my other stories, too. [I feel so loved]** (つ﹏。) **ALSO! thanks to Shashabux for realizing Kurenai's change in speech. This will be a bit important!**

 _•So, Could You...•_

I'm not going to be a lab rat.

I've had enough needles and toxic 'medicines' for _two_ lifetimes, and I have no interest on there being a third. Tsunade isn't the type to let valuable 'research' slip out of her fingers just because I pretty much throw up every time I see a needle, and I don't want to be pressed to sign a contract with _anyone._ Okay, maybe Kakashi Hatake is somewhat of am exception, but I'm still somewhat human on the inside and his emotional baggage is not something I can deal with. I don't want to do or deal with _anyone_ I don't want to.

There are two things I hate the most in the world.

Doctoring of almost any sort, and having my freedom taken from me.

Jigoku died taking my free will from me.

I made sure of that. (But still, the guilt gnaws.)

So, here I am, in a dirty street-side cage with a lackey of Horiko blasting my auction off with a loud speaker, like I'm a piece of _property._ I lay patiently, tail flicking in irritation like a house cat (yummy, by the way.) while murder brews in my eyes. They've shipped me off to Tanzaku Gai, a village that Naruto is supposed to meet Tsunade in. I think I can see the castle that Orochimaru will crush from here. A shame, by the way. It's quite beautiful in person. My cage is on top of a desk, the floor a solid, thick iron with reinforced steel bars, a long rectangular thing probably four and a half feet in length. My chain prong collar (still the same one Jigoku placed on my all those years ago, I wonder why I still keep it around...) is attached to the table with half inch thick chains, my paws and legs bound and jaw muzzled. The shackles on my legs prevent chakra movement (I really freaked them out when I pretty much destroyed the cage to launch at Team Eight.) as well as any other kind of action than sitting and laying, really.

I would have gone with Team Eight is I thought I had a better chance of escape, anyways. I can't beat Kurenai as I am right now, and won't be able to for a while.

I see civilian men and women eyeing me on the sides of the streets as the crowd of nobles, businessmen and ninja gather at the crowing of the auctioneer.

"Rare beast! Not dog, not ninken, but not a summon! Who will be lucky enough to take this fine specimen to their labs? Even better, if trained properly, the beast can make a pretty fine guard! Bidding starts at 1000 ryō!"

At his call, hands raise and people leave, being outbidded as the minutes pass. I eye then all disinterestedly, only keeping a wary watch on the ones who appear wealthy (or smart, in shinobi's cases) enough to use chakra inhibitors on me. The price rapidly rises to 7500 ryō, only a few of the wealthier nobles (not really that high in ranks once I take a better look at them) remaining, along with a quiet, cloaked pair who have remained silent throughout the whole auction. My price continues to grow as I try to listen in on the pair, flickering my ears and concentrating as best I can.

"... would help get rid of our _problem._ It's really quite unmanageable."

"He will throw a fit if you spend money on an animal. Besides, one of... will undoubtedly kill it eventually. It's cruel."

I hear them whisper, a shiver shooting up my spine at the eerie words. I don't feel like dying... again. "Going ONCE!" The grunt shouts, all going still. Oh, oops. I didn't see who voted last. No one makes a move, a few unhappy faces at the prospect of having lost to another making them bitter. "Twice!"

I'm nervous now. I really don't like where this is headed, I've got an extremely ominous feeling. Metaphysical things are my forté. If I feel something is horrible, it's going to be _hell._

Ninety thousand!" The tall, hulking man in the black cloak shouts, turning all heads in shock. The auctioneer blinks, but raises the mallet once again. "Going one-"

"Ten thousand." A cool, calm voice calls out past his crowing, a red, silky cloak over his face. He appears mildly annoyed by his stance, and it's clear to me that he's the one I was almost sold to. I don't care if big and intimidating buys me- all I know is that I've got to stay _away_ from this person. My quasi-hero snorts at him and raises his hand again. " _Fifteen thousand!"_ He announces. "No more and no less." His partner quietly adds in, just loud enough for Horiko's servant to hear. He glances at the red-cloaked stranger as the black-hooded one crosses his arms and faces his direction, as if challenging him. Little Red's shadowed gaze lingers on me a little longer, making every hair on my body stand at the feeling of _wrong_ emanating off of his persona. My body screams at me to run, to get _away_ from this _thing_ and never look back, but I can't look away.

He breaks the spell with a flick of his wrist, turning and walking away without a word.

All is quiet in his wake, the black cloaked giant the only one brimming with pride. "S-sold for Fifteen Thousand ryō!" He announces, his mallet hitting the table for the last time.

My cage is rolled to the back where my new... uh... _captors_ follow him to. "What is your address? We'll have your order shipped right to your doorstep as soon as-"

"No need for that." The slimmer figure cuts him off as the Hulk (I'll call him that) walks right up to my cage and piCKS IT _UP-_ I yelp loudly to express my utter distaste for this new method of travel, my claws digging into the metal as I'm jarred side-to-side. "Your payment will arrive by messenger bird in three days. Thank you." Black Widow (I'm just naming them after avengers now) tells the worker as Hulk swings around and darts off with me on his shoulder. In a poor attempt to ease the shaking, I fit my jaws onto the iron bars and clench down, stopping the rattling of my brain by a small margin.

"... Kisame, you'll kill it like that before we even get back to the base."

... _Kisame?_

 _• Tell Me How You're Sleeping Easy?•_

Kisame Hoshigaki is sitting right across from me. I don't know what's more terrifying- the fact that both he and _Itachi Uchiha_ are in my presence, or that Samehada is licking his lips at me. I really, really hope I wasn't purchased to give that sword dog stew. Itachi had taken pity on me and let me out of the cage _(bless that heavenly child)_ on the order that I stay with them. And trust me, when Itachi Uchiha looks down at you and speaks, you _listen._ Years of hero-love on both of these men is making me panic just seeing them- my heart nearly stopped when he spoke to me, so stay I will. But, probably because my eyes are bugging out of my head and ears are laid flat because _holy crap it's Kisame and ItAChI-_ they tied me up to a tree. I'm making a mental note to remember ninja paranoia.

"Hey, c'mere, buddy." Kisame beckons, shifting his index and thumb together, clicking his tongue. I eye him warily, not trusting the light blue hand that has the faint smell of blood on it. Inwardly a good guy or not, ninja are people to be wary of.

He grunts and pouts a little with my quiet hesitation, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. Itachi observes us from his place on the opposite side of the fire, obsidian orbs reflecting the patient, hungry dance of the fire crackling beside us. I can see the wear on his eyes- clouds like cataracts dimming the deep black of his iris. They're no longer wearing the large, shadowing cloaks like before. Now they bear the symbol of the Akatsuki, their slashed village symbol markers borne in the wide open to all who could see past the heavy genjutsu in the area. Just being around them gives a command of attention to their presence- a sign to others to flee. But to me? I only get curiouser. Taking a a deep, searching whiff, I smell the scent of sea salt sprayed in waves on Kisame; faint traces of blood lost in the ocean of fresh winds and tides that made Kisame so uniquely scented. Itachi's scent is a bit harder to discern, but only because of the blaze in our midst. Itachi smells like a smoldering fire; like a last, dying light burning the ashes in a painful, heated struggle as the smoke of it's burden haunts the air with the scent of burnt cedar wood.

The scent of cooked meat in the air is sharp and enticing, fully capturing my attention as Kisame leans over and retrieves the rabbit from atop the fire. My ears perk in hope as he grabs the second, the saliva in my mouth pooling as he rips the thigh off the charred carcass with his brutish strength, the animal within rearing it's ugly head as it demands to have its hunger sated. Kisame seems to notice this, his black eyes blazing through the dark, flame-lit shadows of the night I'm cloaked in, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. Itachi, by impatience or cleverly hid hunger politely but firmly takes two legs out of Kisame's reach, wasting not a moment as he gently bites into the meat, mesmerizing me with his grace.

Kisame's deep, baritone chuckle snaps my eyes from the forsaken Uchiha, shifting nervously as my stomach quakes and clenches in hunger. He tantalizingly strips a bite of the soft, juicy meat on the ribs with his sharp teeth, never breaking the strong stare with me as I eye the piece with envy, pushing away the human that balks and melts at the masculine aura he emits. His fingers pluck the meat from his mouth, the scent of wondrously delicious rabbit like a slap to my nose. My claws grip onto the soft forest floor beneath me, grains of soil parting and fraying in my innate eagerness. He leans forward and offers the piece of meat out to me, clucking his tongue gently. My tongue inadvertently darts out and wets my jowl, hunger driving me past my hesitancy, though the human fights for control once more. I take into account of the thought that he really isn't the type to offer a dog good food and then decapitate it. I let go and the beast relaxes as I walk closer to Kisame, eye contact alternating between his unwavering eyes and morsel in his hand, words of encouragement dripping out of his mouth and making my ears flicker.

He coaxes me closer, dangling the piece of rabbit between two fingers. "C'mon, buddy." He coos until I'm directly in front of him. He doesn't move as I snap the piece from him fingers in a quick, violent motion, turning around and swallowing it as I hop back, observing him from a distance again. The delicious taste of grease and animal oil cascade down my throat as I swallow, watching as Kisame grins and takes an even larger piece from the body. He holds it out again and I immediately prance closer, licking my chops as I pace a bit, caution still a cloud in my mind but the sharpness of hunger pierces it and I trot up to him, gobbling right in his palm. His smile bares teeth as I lick his palm, getting every last bit of flavor I can. I step back quickly when he pulls his hand away, staying close but careful as he grabs a handful of guts and keeps them in his curled fist, presenting the liver, heart and a good portion of rib meat. All shame is cast away, weathered away by hunger and simple acceptance as my new role in this world and I feed from his hand, ignoring the bitter taste of the mineral-rich liver. Itachi watches with blank eyes as I see Kisame's open hand slowly rises in my peripheral vision. Almost subconsciously, I raise my lips in a snarl, the bridge of my nose scrunching up with my jowl as my ears pin themselves to the back of my neck, eyes sharpening and widening as I focus on the open palm beside me. My tongue flickers out like a snake's as a low, rumbling growl coaxes it's way past the furious munching on my food. He doesn't move away, only coming closer slowly as the rumbling grows lower and I hunker down a little, nervousness taking hold of me as I nervously lick and nibble a little at his fingers. His hand lands on the back of my neck and I immediately freeze, my eyes darting everywhere as the touch feels so _wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, where's the_ pain _? Hands hurt, hands are bad-_

"Shh, Yaseishi." He whispers, lifting his hand and placing it back on me again, gently stroking the back of my neck and over my chain collar. Like a spell, the motion soothes me and I find myself closing my eyes in tiredness, lulled to sleep by his soft petting. I slowly sit on my haunches, letting my head drop on one of his knees, careful to keep away from his crotch. I'm still human enough to have some decorum.

I'm filled with an odd sense of fulfillment as I doze off under his hand, not minding when he slips a finger under my collar to test the weight before he tsk's in distaste at the heaviness. My ears swivel as the fire crackles, peeking open an eye as a log collapses within it. I see Itachi staring at me and we lock eyes. Few, tense seconds pass before I close my eye in social fear, leaning into Kisame's comforting hand that rubs behind my ear. "You're very gentle with it." Itachi states, making my ear flicker toward his voice as I keep the other trained on the woods, an alert habit from my time in the woods. I don't even mind being called 'it' even more. My title doesn't change who I am. I'm female through and through... I think. I haven't really bothered to check. But judging from a lot of things I'm too spellbound to think about right now, I believe I'm still female.

Thank the heavens.

"It's disgusting to treat an animal like that." Kisame snarls, almost making me snap up in surprise from the ire in his booming voice. He senses my startled state and quickly calms himself down. "Back in Mist, no animal was treated well. If it had uses, it was put to use. If not, it was eaten or cast away. Same thing went for children." He explains, his voice more level but I can tell he's still bothered from the way he lightly tugs at my fur and digs his fingers into it. I let him, knowing that it is helping him keep calm. "They didn't eat kids!" He quickly corrects himself at Itachi's eyes widening ever so slightly as he drops his head back to me again. "... at least, not most of the time." He mumbles, lost in memories as his fingers dig a bit deeper into my skin. I feel something akin to sadness prick in my heart, images of a small Kisame in a place like Mist. I'm too tired to feel much, but I'm conscious enough to feel empathy. Cannibalism? That's gross. Eewww...

"It makes me wonder what they did to you, Yaseishi." He grumbles, his hand becoming softer on my fur as he smooths it down again, his hand curling under my chin and making me look at him. I whine and wag my tail, scooching closer to him. He groans as I let out a high-pitched whine, dragging his hand over his face. "Itachi, this dog is therapeutic, I tell you. You've gotta try petting her sometime." He announces, using both thumbs to rub my cheekbones. It feels _heavenly._ I'd forgotten what it feels like to be touched kindly.

Itachi quirks his eyebrow at Kisame's statement, a clear 'No thank you.' Kisame shrugs and slides down the mossy log he'd been sitting on as I shuffle to the side. He leans back and shifts against the log, patting his leg to beckon me back to him. I lay down beside him, curling next to him as the fire sizzles out with a simple sing hand-seal water jutsu courtesy of Kisame. Itachi stands and disappears in a murder of crows, off to take first watch. "Sleep well, Yaseishi." Kisame advises, his hand hand falling on the back of my shoulders. Comfortable and tired, the darkness envelops me in moments.

 _•How You're Only Thinking of Yourself?•_

My muscles pinch and ache in my side as we run on the ground. I keep fast enough pace to tag Kisame on the heel despite my breath becoming ragged after keeping such a high pace for well over an hour. Itachi follows up behind in the trees, true to his origin village with his legendary mobility among the branches. Kisame doesn't break a sweat, but his amusement at my slightly haggard state is obvious as my claws forcibly dig themselves into the ground to push myself further. We've been running since daybreak, the fur on my back at melting temperature from the blazing sun in Kusagakure. Fire territory is far behind us now, and from the open valleys and miles of grass littered with rice paddies and small wooden houses fills me with that sense of awe you get when going to a museum. I feel as though I've been cast back into ancient China (kinda sorta not really) and am viewing the farmers' homes from way back when.

I'm panting like a dog by the time we take a break, feeling the sun-baked chains tugging at the hairs between their links as they singe my skin with their fire-hot surfaces. Kisame snickers at my aggravatingly distraught state, clearly amused by the amount of drool I'm producing. "Hard with all that fur, huh?" He rasps, his big hand descending down on my back two times for a manly pat before he ruffles my freshly-baked fur.

"We're nearing the hideout, so we'll be taking a break in the next town over," Kisame says, ruffling my mane. I perk up at the idea of a town— it means shade, and knowing the cuteness of dogs, I can easily cajole someone into giving me their leftovers. _Wait. Since when do I_ beg _for food?_ I may _look_ like a dog, and against my better knowing, _act_ like a dog... but is it bad that I'm beginning to think like one? Maybe, but perhaps not. This is who I am now, right? The thought makes me a little sad, but I guess I'll just have to deal with it. I mean, it actually really does bother me.

I was transported into this universe. I'm given the opportunity to meet some of the coolest and most influential people in my life that I never would be able to see if this hadn't happened, but... it still doesn't fill the void. I won't ever be able to have a decent conversation with them. I won't be able to ask questions or even do something remotely _human_ with them. I can't even play a game of cards. I can't gamble (bad habit, but _so much_ fun) and I can't speak. I can't sing and I can't see the world in all of it's beautiful colors, I'll never be able to dance again and I'll never hear my favorite songs. I'll never see my family again, I'll never know the satisfaction of reading a good fanfiction or watching the Kentucky Derby with my grandfather. Tio Nato will never be able to have me help him out in the summer, and Aunt Kali will lose a little bit of hope. My abuelito will never be able to tell me his stories and I'll never be able to eat _chocolate._ It hurts. It hurts a lot.

I follow behind Kisame, heart twisting painfully as the two discuss mundane things. I really miss them, now that I think about it. My family, I mean. It hurts, but... _it's okay._

I breathe out a heavy breath, my shoulders a bit lighter as I pick up my pace so that I don't drag too far behind. I was meant to die that day. I can either view this life as a blessing or a curse, and nothing will come from bemoaning what I cannot control. I'm alive. That's all that matters.

"Oi, Yaseishi! Keep up or you'll get left behind," Kisame calls out to me, tapping his thigh. I let out a small gruff and wag my tail, trotting up to him and Itachi's side. We walk along like that for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful spring. The wind picks up and courses gently through my fur, rustling the wild grasses and blowing dandelion seeds in its hands. The sun blazes astonishingly above us, tamed only by the soothing breeze that carries the fresh scent of the sweet meadows. I breathe it all in, feeling my heart beat a little bit faster and the doggish grin on my muzzle growing. It reminds me of my uncle's house and the meadow hidden within the woods of my own backyard; wild, free, and wonderful. My tail wags in tandem with my steps, swaying side to side as I happily trot along. Being a dog isn't that bad.

The small village is within our sights very quickly, bright wooden shops and a red tori gate welcoming us along with the eager smiles of the street vendors ready to urge us into their stores. There are few travelers besides us and fewer store shacks than it would seem, but it's a small, perfect place that the Akatsuki can enter without twitching at every snapping twig. I eye the artisan wares, appraising the wooden sculptures that are intricately smoothed and edged to shape statues of foxes to little mice and deer, along with the occasional daruma keychain. There's a ramen shop to the left side (I can tell because of the stench of menma and highly salted chicken broth) and a miscellaneous shop next to the wood make store. Itachi suddenly makes a sharp turn away from me and Kisame who are hungrily eyeing the takiyaki stand.

Confused, I look up at his form that's hurriedly gliding away. Kisame seems to notice this too as he glances up from the fried squid to see what he's doing.

Itachi stops in front of a vending cart's counter and places down five decently-sized coins that look vaguely silver to me. "The Hanami combo, please." The middle-aged woman smiles at his polite request and takes the money. "Sure thing. I'll be right back!" She tells him, ducking down and rummaging through a few of her cabinets. Kisame, thoroughly amused, smirks with all of his teeth glimmering in the light that peeks through the strait of tree branches looming overhead. The woman comes back quickly with a platter of four dango sticks colored pink, green and white. _I can see the colors?_ I blink at the little revelation, and as Kisame walks along with a 'Thank you' and the treats, I can't help but feel a bit lighter than before. _I can see color!_ It may seem like nothing to an ordinary human being (as all mostly are), but to see color again is like being able to breathe after being choked underwater. It's breathtaking.

Puns aside, I enjoy the almost domestic atmosphere as Itachi and Kisame nibble (more like inhale, in a certain sharkish person's case) at the sweet dumplings with their sugary scent glazing the plains' wild field smell. Green shifts and sways around us as a mighty gust of wind blows and shakes the old trees, new saplings bending over in sway with the changing tide of the air. It's a quiet, peaceful break with mindless tranquility, but one that refreshes my mind and clears the weariness from my bones.

"Time we get moving." Itachi breaks the silence, placing down his cleared skewer. Kisame nods in agreement and reaches his muscled arms above his head, heaving in in a great _stretch._ I follow his movements in my own, doggy-yoga way by lifting my rump in the air and curling back. My elbows (are they even elbows?) crack along with a few bits of my spine and some joint in my scapula (again, going off of human anatomy— they never talked about dogs bones in bio class all that much) at the blissful strain.

The rest of the walk is just as quiet, but pregnant with a content peace that fills the gap of conversations between the two and the complete lack of noise from everything but nature and the occasional clack of my claws against a pebble. We soon venture deeper into the forest, the shadows of the looming conifers and camphor trees darkening the great, sunny expanse of Kusa no Kuni's plains. Darker and more ominous it gets; the ground now bare of any light but tiny specks that manage to break through the leaves. The strong odor of sap and pine overpowers my nose in an almost pleasant way, small twigs that litter the ground snap beneath my feet and the ground dust scatters under my paws.

Ah heavy, drunken illusion seems to settle over us slowly, layer upon layer until vertigo and drowsiness fills me, not unlike the strange feeling I had gotten when I was under Kurenai's (that wicked witch of the Konoha west) genjutsu. Looking up at Kisame and Itachi, they seem unpreterbed by the influence in the area and press on. The human part of my mind shifts oddly, different from it's silent state as of yet. Still, with a gentle grip on my mind, I choose to trust the two S-Ranked criminals (however stupid that may sound to the human-me) and follow them.

We seem to wander for hours on end; going in circles and circles and the human-me _swears_ that we've seen that same mushroom seven times before. It's very annoying, having a little voice in the back of your head complaining in the form of being a 'gut instinct' and the brewing of a migraine, if dogs like I can even get those. Suddenly, I realize that neither Itachi nor Kisame are by my side.

 _Oh $/ !_

Ignoring my self's unusual profanity, I stick my nose to the ground and search for something; _anything_ that smells like the ocean or smoldering fire. Luckily, I hear a sharp whistle before I panic. My head shoots up involuntarily, and suddenly everything clears as though I've been dreaming all along and have only just woken up. I see them a good forty feet away, Kisame's hand lowering from his mouth and Itachi waiting patiently by his side.

Revived by the relief and almost euphoric excitement at seeing my masters again— _hold on, wait up;_ no one _is my- our master—_ I bound towards them, yipping happily as I pounce on Kisame's welcomingly bent knee. Ignoring the rough feeling, I give him a big lick on the cheek as my tail wags furiously under his hands ruffling my neck. "Yaseishi, you've gotta keep close now— Pain's nasty illusion will knock the socks off of ya' til you can't tell left and right." He warns, and suddenly, my mind understands. Perhaps it's the perk of having an almost all-knowledgeable human stuck in your head, but I just like to think that I'm smart enough to understand what he means by that.

Now I stick lol glue to his side, constantly brushing up on his knee to assure myself that I haven't gone astray again.

I just hope that the walk isn't too long again.

 _•Show Me How You're Justified•_

Don't worry, I said.

They'll be receptive, I said.

I'm full of it, I say.

I dodge Hidan's third attempt to cleave me in half, his three-pronged scythe cutting through the dinner table like a hot knife through butter— and I'm about to _be that butter_ if Kakuzu doesn't quit complaining and _helps_ me!

How did it all come to this, you may ask? Well, let's just say that Hidan is (hypothetically, in my mind's opinion) allergic to dogs and having an unsanctioned one in his living space is blasphemy to Jashin. Which, in my humanly opinion, as a crock full of crap. He hasn't sneezed nor swelled _once,_ and we have now intentions of getting into his room.

Not even if satan himself threatens to chew our head off.

Then, one pissed off Kakuzu later, a displeased Orochimaru and Konan being the questioner as to why there is such a racket, we have an incapacitated Kisame and Itachi.

"For Jashin-sama!" Hidan roars, slipping his pike from the scythe handle and driving it through my poor tableshield-san.

Thank the Lord that Konan hates senseless violence and Kakuzu is more pissed about having to pay to replace the broken table than anything else right now.

A black thread whips out from Kakuzu's arm quicker than lightning, coiling around Hidan's throat. It shoots back like a ripcord, the iron rope cutting through his flesh with a sickening _squelch_ as his head goes rolling. Not bothered too greatly by the sight (knowing in the logical side of me that he's immortal, and having seen The Revenant and 1922 along with Fortitude and many other grotesque films) and more concerned by _not_ getting paper cut to pieces by the sheets flying my way, I run like hell caught my fur on fire. Kicking Hidan's cussing head aside and ignoring his curses directed at me, my ancestors and offspring, I dart towards Kisame and (rightfully, mind you) cower begins his legs. The paper airplanes come to an abrupt halt as Kisame shields me, scowling. "Oi! What the hell's wrong with you all?!" He roars, effectively shutting up a cussing Hidan and a foul-mouthed Kakuzu.

Kisame turns to me with an apologetic look and picks me up ( _and_ whoa _is he ripped at this close proximity)_ attempts to flip me upside down. I struggle a little, heartbeat slightly panicked from the attack and suddenly being turned upside down, but Kisame holds me calmly and cradles my head in the crook of his elbow, using his other arm and forearm to hold up my body. It's oddly reminiscent of being carried princess-style, but as a furry four-legs, I feel like I'm more or less being cradled like a baby. Talk about embarrassing. I'm glad to receive the attention anyways. I can't remember the last time someone's held me like this beyond my human-baby days.

 _Did anyone ever hold me like this?_

Kisame, what are you doing?" Konan narrows her eyes.

 _•Telling All Your Lies Like Second Nature?•_


End file.
